often, in fact—knaves acted like honest men if the choice was having their knavery published to the world. Knave or not, Nikodromos let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Come along, then, both of you,” he said. “You'll get your money. Bring the hide. Let there be no doubt that I am a man who keeps the agreements he makes.” “Let's go,” Menedemos said. When they got to Nikodromos' house, Sostratos wondered whether the priest would be able to pay them at all, for no slave opened the door to let them in: Nikodromos had to do it himself. Was a man without a slave likely to be a man who had more than four minai of silver in his home? It struck Sostratos as unlikely. He relaxed a little when he saw a woman tending a flower garden in the courtyard. A maidservant might not answer the door, but at least Nikodromos had some help. Then the priest snapped, “Go back to the women's quarters, Asine. I have traders with me.” “Yes, my husband,” the woman said, and hurried away, though she did look back over her shoulder at the Rhodians. “She wasn't expecting company,” Nikodromos said apologetically. “It's all right, best one,” Sostratos said, though what he was thinking was, Just you and your wife? How do you get anything done? You might as well be peasants, or even barbarians. “Quite all right,” Menedemos echoed. His tone was all it should have been. Even so, Sostratos disliked the way his eyes slid toward the stairway to the second floor, the stairway up which Asine had gone. You barely got a look at her, Sostratos thought. She barely got a look at you. Why do I think —why do I know —you want to lie with her if you can? Why? You're my cousin, that's why. I've seen you around women too many times by now. I've seen you land in trouble too many times by now, too. Trying not to think about what might be—what all too likely was—going through Menedemos' mind, Sostratos asked Nikodromos, “Shall we wait here while you get the money?” “Oh, I suppose you can step into the andron,” Nikodromos said grudgingly. “I won't be long.” In a proper household, a slave would have offered them wine and olives or raisins. Here, they simply sat in the men's room and waited. “Well, what do you think?” Menedemos asked, almost without moving his lips. “Is he lying to us, or is he the greatest miser since Midas?” “I don't know,” Sostratos answered. “But I'm guessing he's a cheapskate. Would he have had the gall to bring us here if he couldn't pay us?” “We'll find out,” Menedemos said. “His wife's pretty. Did you notice?” “No, and I wish you wouldn't have, either,” Sostratos said. His cousin made a face at him. Before they could start arguing in earnest, Menedemos let out a sharp hiss. Sostratos fell silent; he'd seen
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